


Santa (and) Baby

by DryCereal



Series: Fatherhood [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Christmas, Family Christmas, Festive Planning, Hosting, M/M, Parenthood, parent!phan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryCereal/pseuds/DryCereal
Summary: Prompts:"christmas with the Howells: dans family at Christmas and how they interact with each otherand"parent!phan: preferably with a newborn")





	Santa (and) Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whoops_ima_dannie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoops_ima_dannie/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Jamie!! Thanks for such a fab set of prompts, I hope you like what I've done with them! <3

“Dan… **No**.”  
  
“Phil, come on. I just want to have a _look_ …” He replies, turning the puppy dog eyes fixedly on his partner, before determinedly turning the pram ninety degrees; no mean feat in the middle of Oxford Street in mid-December, and through the entrance of the Disney Store.  
  
Phil trails after his family unwillingly, rolling his eyes as he crosses the threshold and is immediately assaulted with the noise of chirpy music, and screaming children and parents. He catches up with Dan, just as he reaches towards an admittedly adorable-looking Piglet stuffed toy, but-  
  
“Dan, we must have absolutely everything, _everything_ they make already, the nursery is full of-“  
  
“We don’t have the winter stuff - look, it’s got a hat and a scarf, and isn’t it so _cute_ -“  
  
“-and she doesn’t even sleep in there yet, we can’t get any more…” he trails off, realising Dan isn’t listening to him, and there’s no point, he’s already placed the toy gently on the basket he hadn’t even noticed grasped tightly in Dan’s hand til now, and he’s turned his sights to the onesies hanging up on the wall at the back of the store…  
  
“Right…” he mutters, shaking his head but smiling despite himself; “I’m getting **everything** I want from Lush later.”  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dan pauses suddenly as he approaches the kitchen staring in disbelief down at the kitchen counter. More accurately, what has appeared on it since that morning.  
  
After much discussion and deliberation, he and Phil had picked out their advent calendars for this year, and they’d been sat side by side ready for the first for over a week now, tempting them. His, an almost-monochrome box, aside from the red ribbon across the front, that he hadn’t been able to resist when he’d seen what was inside from Hotel Chocolat, and Phil’s annual choice of a Yankee Candle calendar, this year’s shaped and decorated like a wreath.  
  
Now, though, in between the two was a brightly coloured rectangular addition. Drawing closer, he smiles as he picks it up, running his finger over the familiar characters, before turning as he hears Phil coming up the stairs.  
  
“So what’s this then?” he teases, holding up the new addition, smiling as Phil colours noticeably. “I mean, I should probably be asking _who_ it’s for...?”  
  
He matches Phil’s withering look with one of his own. “Phil. She’s six weeks old. She can’t have chocolate yet…”  
  
“She liked the colours, and I wasn’t going to give her…“ He trails off as Dan raises his eyebrows and smirks.  
  
“Too bloody right you weren’t! But if she’s not going to be eating it, then…” He stops as Phil flushes even more deeply, avoiding eye contact entirely.  
  
“Philip. We already have-! We don’t need-! You… I…!”  
  
Phil blusters as Dan exclaims, before trying to argue back. ”It’s only one a day, and they’re _tiny_ , look-“ He goes to prise open one of the doors to prove his point, only to have Dan snatch it out of reach, a scandalised expression on his face.  
  
“No! It’s not the first, you can’t open it yet!”  
  
“Dan. She’s six weeks old-“ He retorts, grinning cheekily as Dan points an accusatory finger at him, feigning speechlessness.  
  
“Don’t you dare turn it back on me, Lester…”  
  
“Just did.”  
  
“OK, fine. You want cheap and nasty chocolate instead of sharing the good stuff I got…” He responds, affecting a disinterested tone, whilst turning away from Phil to hide the twitch of his lips as he fails to keep a straight face.  
  
“What? Dan, noooo…!” Phil whines petulantly, picking up the calendar from where Dan had left it, brushing off non-existent dust, before placing it neatly between the other two with more care than it necessitates. “It was just for fun, I just thought she could have one for the sake of it – I didn’t buy it for the choc- Oh, you’re such a… I _hate_ you!” He finishes, as Dan bursts out laughing.  
  
“Mmmhmmm… I’m the _worst_!” Dan mimics, still chuckling, even as they hear the baby wake, and start wailing.  
  
“Still think we shouldn’t give her the chocolate? Might cheer her up…” Phil jokes, as they head towards the moses basket across the room.  
  
“Six weeks old, Philip…!” Dan replies, humour evident in his voice, as he follows him across the room, and dips his head to look into their daughter’s eyes as Phil settles her against his shoulder. “Next year, poppet. Til then, let’s get you some nice milk, and changed again, hmm?”

 

* * * * *

  
“But what if the paint stuff… whatever it is - what if it’s toxic and it’s on her hands and it gets in her mouth and- “  
  
“Dan, love, please, stop worrying. It was just an idea, something we could do, but if you don’t want to we don’t have to. I just… I thought it’d be nice.” Phil trails off, looking dejected, before mumbling something in which the word “tradition” is about all Dan can hear.

It’d be a low blow, if Phil was like that and used words to hurt. Against Dan, anyway. He doesn’t though. He’s truthful to a fault where Dan and their family is concerned, which makes it all the worse when he says something like that – makes it powerful when he’s disappointed.  
  
It’s this more than anything that causes Dan to grab the laptop resting on the coffee table in front of him, and open a browser.  
  
Fifteen minutes of frantic googling and a phone call later, he clatters down the hall to find Phil lying on their bed, and announces “So we have an appointment tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock okay?”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“For some non-toxic, definitely not baby-poisoning crafty stuff.” Phil jack-knifes off the bed at his words, and quickly makes his way towards Dan, still stood in the doorway. Dan can’t help the smile at his obvious excitement, and before he knows it Phil has seized his hand in his and pulled him down onto the bed next to him.  
  
The next half hour is spent looking at various designs and craft projects Dan thinks are way above their abilities, but instead of pointing it out, he lets Phil smother his doubts in his enthusiastic Pinterest-fuelled inspiration.  
  
“Oh… oh-oh-oh oh _dear_ ” he croons, trying to soothe his daughter and support her as her foot is painted once more. Before them sit six pieces of pottery, each with either a tiny hand or footprint centred, awaiting the addition of paint… glaze, whatever this stuff is.  
  
He makes eye contact with Phil, sat forlornly across the table, and smiles comfortingly, resisting the urge to frown as the woman helping them presses her foot firmly against the cookie plate – if he’s honest, he thinks to himself, he’d want to yell too – it can’t be a pleasant feeling.  
  
Phil’s ready with the wipes again when it’s done, and between them they soon have a quiet, clean baby tucked away back in the pram as they focus on finishing the designs they’re doing their best to emulate. Dan’s decorating a clear glass bauble, trying to gauge how much room he will need to write her name and the year underneath her handprint, on which he has already painted eyes, nose and a mouth to turn it into a “reindeer’s face” before he realises he has no idea whatsoever how to actually write it on there.  
  
He looks up to see Phil concentrating on sponging the edge of a plate bright red to match the Santa design, then makes eye contact with the assistant who seemed the friendliest when they’d arrived. Spotting his worried expression, she makes her way over.  
  
“I was just wondering how you get the writing so neat-looking” he responds, when she asks “What’s up” in an overly-cheery tone.  
  
“Oh, it’s simple” she chirps, dashing off, and returning with another basket of squeeze bottles, all different colours, but these with much narrower nozzles. “Just pull the pin out of the end there, and don’t squeeze.”  
  
He makes slightly panicked eye contact with Phil, who just shrugs back at him helplessly, so in a strangled tone of voice he asks “Can you- I mean, can you show me on this one? Please?” He relaxes slightly as she smiles in response, and reaches over to pick out the matching brown to the footprint, before there’s an angry-sounding outburst from behind him.  
  
“Oh, I don’t think so...! We’re here to help, not to do it do it for people.” Dan doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder – can’t bring himself to, honestly; to know it’s the same woman who accused their weeks-old baby of making a fuss earlier, and his suspicions are unnecessarily confirmed by Phil, suddenly hunched over so his nose is practically brushing the paint, ears burning.  
  
He can’t help himself, embarrassment mixed in with a bit of anger, as he mutters “Oh, _fuck off_ , you miserable **_hag_** ” under his breath, but obviously not quietly enough, as he immediately feels Phil kick him under the table, looking up with a wide-eyed pleading expression on his face, and a snigger from next to him.  
  
As she reaches for a plain white tile that they’ve been using as palettes for the paints, the woman helping them whispers “I say the same thing every damn day, don’t worry.”  
  
He joins in her laughter, relieved, as she demonstrates how to write what they want on the tile, lets him practice a few times, before cheering after he successfully copies the text onto the bauble. He cheers up even more when Phil compliments him on it, and begs him to do the writing on the things he’s decorating.  
  
He’s even happier, they both are, a week later when they go and pick up the finished items, and again when placing their bauble on the tree, and when their family members open the ones they made for gifts on Christmas Day.  
  
* * * * *  


“Phil! Have you seen the –oh!” Dan’s head suddenly appears over the top of the bannister. He’s smiling, until he surveys the scene of utter devastation spread across the lounge, his family smack in the centre. “What’cha doin’, Philly?” he asks, oh-so-casually, smile now pasted back on his face as he approaches the mess.  
  
As he draws closer, Phil makes a grab in the vicinity of their daughter, and hurriedly stuffs something under his crossed legs, before he looks up, making eye contact, even if he does look a little… cagey, Dan thinks.  
  
“Just-“ he coughs, and when he starts again, his voice is less of a nervous squeak; “Just wrapping some presents, that’s all.”  
  
“Who for?” Dan says, definitely teasing now. He’s fairly sure whatever Phil is shifting nervously around is for him, and maybe it’s a bit mean, but he can’t resist… Wait. He frowns as he looks down at their daughter, who is gripping a roll of sellotape in both hands tightly, before speaking, in a voice calmer than his husband deserves:  
  
“Phil… What’s that on her onesie?” He gets a strangled noise in lieu of a response, and Phil makes a grab for the offending object.  
  
Dan’s quicker.  
  
“PHIL!” He exclaims, scandalised. “Have you been using our daughter as a _sellotape dispense_ r?!”  
  
Phil opens his mouth to argue, but gives up before he even starts, as Dan picks up the baby from her play mat and looks her over – over-exaggeratedly, in Phil’s opinion, but wisely, he keeps quiet. Until-  
  
“Dan, it’s fine. It was only on the onesie, not on her, and just on her feet. I just needed- “  
  
“This was not what I had in mind yesterday when I said we could just tell people she’d wrapped the presents, instead of you…”  
  
“Are we going to tell people the same for the cards you wrote?” Phil snarks, stung. He huffs in annoyance when Dan starts laughing, not unkindly.  
  
“I should have expected something like this, after you trying to stick it on your face that time when we were vlogging, remember?” Phil smiles in spite of himself as he remembers, fond memories flooding out the irritation at recent events.  
  
“Shove over, I’ll help” Dan says, placing the baby down on her stomach, quickly replacing the roll of tape in her hands with a shiny gift label before she realises it’s been taken, and sitting down next to Phil, crossed legs pressed against his more comfortable than it should be as he reaches for another gift and places it down on the wrapping paper.  
  
* * * * *  
  
He leaves the lights off as he moves through their home, cradling the baby - whimpering rather than fully crying now she’s been picked up - against his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen to prepare a bottle.  
  
It’s second nature now, way beyond routine. He can go through the motions of feeding, burping and settling his daughter before crashing back down onto the bed, curling back around Phil and falling asleep almost instantly.  Very different to how in the beginning, he’d be up for the night from the first time she awoke.  
  
This time _is_ different though, and he startles, nearly dropping the kettle when the light snaps on suddenly. He whips around to find both his own mother and his mother-in-law, both in their dressing gowns and slippers, frozen in place across the room, both grimacing, having seen his instinctive reaction.  
  
There’s a moment of silence where they stare at each other before they all start giggling. Dan is the first to stifle his laughter, and asks in a whisper “What are you doing up?”  
  
“Biological imperative, isn’t it?” his Mum answers, before they both giggle.  
  
“No, love” Kath continues. “We were up chatting and heard her start crying. Thought we’d come see what all the fuss was about…”  
  
“Oh, if I’d known you were both still up, I’d have stayed in bed…” he jokes, ducking as his mother swats at his head in mock-outrage, bouncing and shushing the baby as he measures out the powder into the bottle.  
  
“Oh no you don’t, mister” His Mum replies, pointing in the exact way he now does to Phil when he’s mostly joking. “We’ve both done the getting up at all hours thing twice; now we get to sleep and steal cuddles during daylight hours!”  
  
“Phil does take a turn though, right?” Kath queries, frowning. “He doesn’t just leave you to- “  
  
“He does.” Dan’s quick to reassure her, “He does. I always end up getting up too though, can’t help it. He falls asleep quicker afterwards, but he lets me sleep during the day too, so it evens out.”  
  
“Speaking of sleep…” Kath changes the subject, whether because she’s satisfied with his answer or not, Dan can’t tell; “I’m going to go try and get some.” She coos at the baby in Dan’s arms, then stretches up to kiss him on the cheek before saying goodnight and heading downstairs. They watch her go, before his Mum turns to him with a smile.  
  
“So how are the nights _really_?” she asks, with a wink. Dan huffs out a laugh, grimacing exaggeratedly, before sticking out his tongue as she laughs right back at him.  
  
“Ugh. Not as bad these days, I’m almost getting used to it.” He replies, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “The days are the worst part; how are you supposed to function?”  
  
“You’re not, as far as I know” she admits, before continuing, “I thought it was hard when you were born, but your brother was far worse. Or maybe I was older and couldn’t hack not sleeping…”  
  
Dan smiles at that, then looks down at the baby as he answers. “Yeah, I think it’s me. She’s _perfect_.”  
  
“She really is” his mother agrees, smiling at them both. “And so were you.” Dan scoffs at that, and she frowns at him briefly. “No, you were. And you _still_ are. Dan-” He’s still looking at her, disbelieving; “-You **_are_**. Oh, fine. Don’t believe me. Doesn’t make it untrue.”

Oddly, it’s the mix of exasperation and frustration in her voice that gives him pause. He bites his lip, but can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.  
  
“Thanks, Mum.” He murmurs, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, staring down at the baby and blinking back the tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. He could blame them on the lack of sleep, but neither of them would believe him. He doesn’t realise she’s moved closer, til he feels her hand on his arm as she looks at her granddaughter, still sucking on the bottle.  
  
“Look at her.” She continues, as tenacious when trying to make a point as Dan himself can be. “You said she’s perfect, and she’s half you, plus she’s safe, healthy and happy. That’s down to you and Phil. Her being your baby and caring about her won’t magically turn off the minute she turns 18, and you won’t stop loving her – ever. So yes, she’s perfect, and you too. Now hand her over and go get some sleep. Mum’s orders!”  
  
He outright laughs at that, before (after making her promise she won’t cause a Grandmother-war over it) handing over the baby to be winded, watching his Mum cooing over his daughter as he rinses the bottle and puts it in the steriliser with the others, before all three head back to their beds.  
  
* * * * *  
  
He shifts the baby against his shoulder more securely as he looks around him at his family. All of them, together on Christmas Eve for the first time ever. He’d rather be cosy at home still, but it’s a different sort of cosy, all crammed onto two pews in the stuffy little church singing carols and trying not to doze off during the readings.  
  
It makes Dan happy, to keep his Grandma happy, and she insisted on Church even if they are in London, not at home in Berkshire. Dan, along with Karen and Adrian had all acquiesced, with varying amounts of grumbling, but he’d thought he’d gotten away with it until his own mother heard about their plans and had decided it was a lovely idea. Martyn and Cornelia hadn’t even managed to escape, despite his brother’s best efforts, - secretly, he thinks Corn was touched to have been included, even though they weren’t staying over afterwards. No-one could have expected or escaped such matriarchal determination, it’d been easier just to go along with it in the end.

  
He probably won’t admit it, even if pressed, but it’s kind of nice, to all do something as a unit, and it feels really good to be included by the Howells in familial traditions, no matter how small. He’s always been thankful for any show of acceptance, affection or inclusion from Dan’s family, maybe because it stems from Dan’s insecurity with his family relationships, something Phil feels incredibly lucky to never have experienced, but nevertheless, it feels good to be included even on something as small as greetings cards, even if he’s the butt of the joke on some of them.  
  
Dan’s Mum, his brother, even his staunchly religious Grandparents have never made him feel unwanted or unwelcome because of his relationship with Dan, but his northern-ness, well… That’s fair game, apparently.  
  
He’d rather have that than no contact, no relationship with them though, especially now. He nuzzles the baby gently, and feels Dan’s shoulder pressed, leaning against his more closely suddenly, and he’s happy and grateful, to love and be loved by those surrounding them at Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my betas - @winstonlives & @realeyesrealize - you both rock! <3
> 
> So now I'm not struggling to remain secret, even when my recipient pops up in a word wars chat and asks "what if we're writing for each other?" (I shit you not, [THAT HAPPENED!](https://drycerealthief.tumblr.com/post/181484795247/hey-jamie-with-a-g-and-alittledizzy-remember)) I can be found on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DryCerealThief) or [Tumblr](https://drycerealthief.tumblr.com)


End file.
